


Alex, the Barrow Boy

by anklebiterss



Category: Cobra Starship
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-11 23:10:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7911208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anklebiterss/pseuds/anklebiterss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But finally, once the marigolds are in bloom again, Alex gathers a handful and makes his way to the old Tamarack tree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alex, the Barrow Boy

_ Based heavily off Eli, the Barrow Boy by the Decemberists _

 

Alex pads out of his house, heading to the wooden shed outside the small building to fetch his barrow.

 

It’s not a job he wants, of course. It’s tiring, but it has it’s perks.

 

It’s February, and slightly windy. Late winter. 

 

He makes note to plant the marigolds soon.    
  
While it’s still winter, though, he needs to take advantage of the cold to sell out the last of the coal he has. 

 

One of perks of the job, barrow boy, is the money he makes. He needs it to survive, of course he does. 

 

But he uses it as an excuse to buy corn and candles from the boy a few blocks over.

  
He knows very well he could get cheaper corncobs from the girls down the road, they all fancy him anyways, but he needs an excuse to talk to this boy.

 

Alex doesn’t know anything about the boy. Nothing but the fact that he sits under the old Tamarack tree a few blocks over, selling his corn and candles.

 

It’s an odd mix of things to sell, but nobody questions it. They don’t know him, they don’t have a right to question it.

 

By the time Alex finishes his route and wheels his wooden cart down the road, still half full of coal, he’s sweating and it’s nearly night. The moon is almost fully visible, and the sky is a light pink. He would be able to appreciate it if he didn’t feel like he was about to collapse.

 

Sure enough, the boy is sat under the Tamarack, needles from the tree littering his hair. There’s small cones scattered at his feet and a woven basket on either side of him. Alex fetches his bin from the end of the barrow, loading it with a handful of coal. 

 

He coughs to get the boy’s attention.

 

“Hello?”

 

The boy looks up at him and blinks slowly, shaking the needles out of his hair.

 

“It’s you again. The barrow boy.”   
  
Alex can’t help but smile at the recognition.

 

“That’s me.” He can finally bear the title proudly. “Alex, the barrow boy.”

 

The boy smiles lopsidedly at that. 

 

“In that case, I’m Nate, the candlestick maker. Bit of a boring job, in comparison to the barrow boy. I haven’t got a formal title either.” Nate pauses. “I’m sure you’re not here to talk though.” 

 

Alex blinks slowly.    
  
“I can be, if you want me to be. I  _ do  _ need some corn though. I didn’t make much today, but-” He thrusts the bin in his hand towards Nate, who smiles faintly.    
  
“Help yourself, Alex the barrow boy.” There’s a hint of a smirk in his voice. “You’ll have to come down here more often though.”

 

Alex knows he will.

 

☠☠☠☠☠

 

“Alex?”

 

Nate has his head set in Alex’s lap, and the older boy is playing with his hair. 

 

Alex makes a noise in confirmation that he heard, too focused on weaving his leftover marigolds through Nate’s now longer hair.

 

When it’s clear Alex is too focused to give an actual response, Nate starts to speak again.

 

“Y’know… Y’know that boy a few streets over? That- That died?”

 

Alex freezes. 

 

He knows exactly who and what Nate is talking about.

 

“You mean that got killed.” Alex speaks through gritted teeth.

 

“Yeah.” Nate swallows the lump in his throat. “That. He got killed, ‘coz he’s- He  _ was  _ a fag?”

 

Alex’s jaw clenches up tighter. “He was gay. Yeah. What about it?”   
  
Nate feels himself sigh in relief. Alex’s jaw loosens up slightly.

 

When Nate doesn’t respond, Alex prods at him.

 

“Well? What of it?” He tugs a marigold from the younger boy’s hair, plucking the petals off it and silently repeating the chant the little girls at school sang when he was a kid, ‘ _ He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not-’  _ not even paying attention to when the petals stop, mumbling a quiet “He loves me…” without noticing. Nate is too distressed to say anything about it.

 

“I-...” He starts up, not looking Alex in the eyes. He searches for words for a moment before settling on a soft, “I don’t wanna be killed.”

 

Alex freezes up. 

 

Did he just-

 

“Neither do I.” He admits quietly. Nate blinks slowly, and then Alex leans over, praying that he isn’t wrong in the interpretation.

 

He presses his lips to Nate’s.

 

Nate kisses back immediately.

 

After moments, Alex pulls back ever so slightly, dropping the stem of the flower.

 

“He loves me.”

 

☠☠☠☠☠

 

“You can’t- Mrs. Novarro, there has  _ got _ to be some kind of misunderstanding here!” Alex demanded, following after Nate’s mom with determination. The older woman shakes her head, not bothering to look back at the teenage boy.

 

Alex is lost.

 

It’s his fault, to let that happen.

 

Nate wouldn’t want him dead.

 

“It’s no mistake, Mr. Marciera.” Mrs. Novarro’s tone is bitter, and she marches forwards, only caring about her destination. “You don’t want to be friends with a faggot, do you?” A harsh laugh escapes her lips, and Alex swallows hard.

 

“He’s my- My  _ friend,  _ miss. I don’t  _ care  _ if he’s gay.” Alex tries to explain, growing even more frustrated. Mrs. Novarro clearly doesn’t care, so Alex tries again.

 

“He’s your  _ son.  _ You can’t go to Mayor about this. Your son. Dead. You can’t just  _ do that!  _ It’s nonsensical! Don’t you love him?”

 

“I did.” Mrs. Novarro walks faster. “I can’t anymore. He’s a fag. He’ll infect other people. I’m sure of it. He has to be burned.”

 

Alex’s eyes sting at the thought of it. 

 

Nate,  _ his  _ Nate. Burned alive. 

 

All because of him.

 

That’s the moment he decides that he’s a total idiot, because it’s never costed him this much, not until now.

 

His idiocy should never cost a human life. 

 

Especially not Nate’s, of all people. 

 

☠☠☠☠☠

 

Alex couldn’t bring himself to attend the burning. What sane person could?

 

He didn’t attend the burial either.

 

They buried Nate in the pine grove. Under the Tamarack. 

 

Alex doesn’t visit for months. 

 

He can’t. 

 

He won’t.

 

Because he knows it’s his fault Nate is dead.

 

It’s his fault they found him kissing another boy under the Tamarack. Alex was the other boy.

 

Nate, of course, covered for him.

 

Nobody knew it was Alex.

 

If Nate deserved to be dead, so did he.

 

But finally, once the marigolds are in bloom again, Alex gathers a handful and makes his way to the old Tamarack tree.

 

He’s tied the bouquet together with a slip of red paper, sealed with melted wax from a candle he had bought from Nate.

 

His eyes are too dry, he can’t feel anything.

 

Romeo and Juliet was a sob story, not of love.

 

The story of Alex the barrow boy and his candlestick maker is one of something else, always open for interpretation.

 

☠☠☠☠☠

 

Alex the barrow boy is found dead in the lake a week later.

 

He has a bouquet of marigolds clutched to his chest, his pale hands clenched. Every petal has fallen off of the flower.

 

_ He loves me.  _ _ He loves me not.  _ _ He loves me.  _ _ He loves me not. _

_ He loves me. _

 

Alex is buried in the churchyard, across town from the pine grove.

  
But since then, the barrow boy still walks, a cart full of marigolds. Few see him, searching for someone he’ll never find.


End file.
